


Mount Everest

by phichithamsters



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, I owe an apology letter to Yuuri Katsuki, Teen Angst, implied otayuri because I just can't help myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24657049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phichithamsters/pseuds/phichithamsters
Summary: A character study of Yuri Plisetsky, loosely following the timeline of Yuri!!! on Ice.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri & Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky, Yuri Plisetsky & Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Mount Everest

_He looks out into the crowd and his vision narrows. The dark and the light blur as he searches for a face he doesn’t know. Chanting his name, the crowd breathes as one monotonous mass, but he can’t hear it over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. He stares at the ice in front of him, watches it fade to black, and once more allows the roaring cheers to enter as the ice comes back into focus._

_He doesn’t look out into the crowd again. He knows he won’t find what he’s looking for._

* * *

It’s easy to forget everything except for the choreography when he competes; to block out all noise except for the music. He hears it in his sleep, the notes of Agape twisting his dreams as he fumbles jump after jump, over-rotating and soaring towards the ice below him. In his dreams, Yuri flies. He flies so high that even the bed couldn’t break his fall.

* * *

When Yuri was a kid, back in Juniors, he told Yakov he could fly. His hair was short, back then, and he wore frilly costumes with itchy sleeves that rubbed his wrists raw. Viktor had just debuted in Seniors and he was spectacular, everything that the sport had been looking for. But Yuri quickly learned to get under Viktor’s skin, to chip away at the cracks in his smile. Yuri knew he was arrogant and self obsessed and cruel, a far cry from the fair maiden he played on the ice. Even still, Yuri wanted to be like him, to _be_ him. They trained in the same club, but everyone was always watching Viktor, talking about Viktor. Yuri had always imagined that the best thing that Viktor could do for him was retire. 

* * *

When Viktor leaves for Japan, Yuri smashes his phone. He throws it against the walls of the rink as hard as he can and watches it shatter into pieces. Yakov has seen him lash out before and so he ignores it, but Yuri wants Yakov to scream at him, wants Yakov to lecture him, just so he can fight back. Mila shoves him unsympathetically and he growls at her, baring his fangs and she swipes, the back and forth of their bickering a familiar comfort for Yuri. Yakov hands him a new phone at the end of practice and Yuri just scoffs, but he shoves it into his bag anyways. 

* * *

_He never runs out of air, either. When he isn’t a full on firestorm, he smolders. When he doesn’t smoke, he flames. Yuri jumps from place to place, never standing still. He leaves only ashes behind him. The ashes are too hot. When they float to the ground, they ignite._

* * *

He’d never liked Viktor, but it hurts all the same to be forgotten. Yuri has to follow the man halfway across the globe to make good on his promise, but Viktor does it, he choreographs Yuri a heart-stopping piece that could win championships. It’s technically perfect in all ways, except that Yuri can see through its elegance. There is a lot that Yuri could learn from Viktor, if only Viktor would stop holding himself back. 

Viktor choreographs to win, but Yuri doesn’t want to just win. He wants to burn everything to the ground. 

* * *

Watching Yuuri skate, he understands the appeal. Why Viktor would drop everything to be with this man. Yuuri transforms on the ice, becoming everything he couldn’t be during the day. The sad, shy, unassuming man is nowhere to be seen and eros is reborn right in from Yuri.

People watch Yuuri to believe in something, to win. People always love an underdog. No one has ever told him that he wants too much. They cheer him on, fall after fall, and he keeps getting up. It’s infuriating to watch him try again and again. 

Yuri doesn’t hide who he is. He is fearsome and reckless and he burns, on and off the ice. He is blunt and he tells the truth even when it hurts, and he wins. Yuri doesn’t apologize for winning, and yet, all he has ever been told is no. That he dreams too big. That his ideas are too reckless. That he’ll never be able to do it. Yuri is tired of it.

Yuuri skates to meet expectations. Yuri skates to break them.

* * *

_The ice is so sparkling and shining and perfect that he’s aching to tear into it, to hack his blades across the perfect surface until it’s as scarred as his own feet._

* * *

Yuri’s growing so much that his costumes can’t keep up. Between competitions, he has to get them tailored and untailored to fit the harsh angles of his bones that jut from his skin. The fittings take away time from practice, time he could be lutzing or jumping or training. He itches for the ice whenever he is not on it. The costume stretches uncomfortably around his hips and he tries to stay still because he’s been stabbed too many times by the tailor's pins and needles. An hour later, the verdict is in. He needs an inch added to the ankles. 

* * *

His grandfather never liked crowded spaces, or any spaces, for that matter. He was a man who had lived his whole life in one town. He told Yuri that he’d never even left Russia. He owned a townhouse in the same complex he’d grown up in. It was his mother’s place, he told Yuri, and it was important for him to stick to his roots. 

He never liked picking Yuri up at the airport, but he did it anyway because no one else was around to do it. As Yuri’s career grew, his visits became few and far between, but when the competitions came to town, Yuri’s grandfather would hop in his beaten up sedan and drive the 45 minutes into the city to gather Yuri from the airport, piroshkis in hand, just like Yuri always loved. 

He had always felt bad about missing competitions; both he and Yuri resented his inability to change. Even as a child his grandfather would hem and haw over Yuri's invitations, rubbing his back as he told him his old bones couldn’t handle sitting in those hard plastic seats. As Yuri's competitions got bigger and the stadiums got higher and higher, his grandfather was lucky enough to be able to watch them on TV. 

* * *

When Yuri was twelve, Yakov told him he couldn’t jump in competitions, for fear of injuring his still-growing body.

When Yuri was thirteen, his grandfather told him he couldn’t come to his first Juniors, even though it was held in Moscow.

When Yuri was fourteen, a trainer told his host family that he couldn’t eat sugar, because it was affecting his figure.

When Yuri was fifteen, Lilya told him his arms were sloppy, and made Yuri skate his routines without them just to prove a point.

* * *

Viktor told him _yes_ once and Yuri held on to it, cherished it, worshipped it. Viktor told him he believed in him and Yuri _flew._ Screw Yakov, screw his teammates, Yuri could land a quad younger than any of them. He didn’t need the scores to prove it, he had the living, breathing proof. 

He fell when he tried to jump his first quad in competition, but it didn’t matter, because he rotated enough for it to count and so Yuri counted it. The first time Viktor talked to him for real, really saw Yuri for who he was, was all because of that botched quad. He promised Yuri a program in exchange for a win, and that was enough to light a spark in Yuri. Yuri rode that high to a gold in Juniors, his first major national title, and that time, he landed all his jumps.

* * *

_He can’t breathe, his lungs are constricting and his ears are ringing and only the sensation of being finished is keeping him from fainting. He distantly hears the cheers and notices the flowers that fall around him but it hurts, his chest is on fire and he’s being consumed from the inside. He’s never been bested before, not by a routine, not by himself. Yuri drops to his knees on the broken and scarred surface of the ice and he weeps, because weeping is the only thing that makes it feel better._

* * *

It’s just a thumbs up and a “good luck,” but it catches Yuri off guard. He looks into the stands and he finds someone who believes in him. 

Otabek tells him yes, and that’s all Yuri has ever wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this in celebration of my one-year anniversary of returning to fic writing! One year ago today, I posted my first YOI fic Welcome to the Madness, and while I sometimes cringe re-reading parts of it, it remains as a testament to my growth as a writer and it was the beginning of my foray back into fic writing. I'm forever grateful for this show, the fandom, and the friends I've made as I've written across all of my fandoms (you know who you are)! 
> 
> For those of you who have been here with me since the beginning— thank you and I appreciate you! Here's to many more years of loving writing. 🥂
> 
> Say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/phichithamsters)!


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